


Heavenly Holiday

by Rosage



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 09:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17937536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: Hildegarde passes on what she’s learned of Valentine’s Day to the one she most wants to spend it with.





	Heavenly Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> This references the Heavenly Holiday wyrmprint, in which Cibella and Hildegarde spend a day out together.

Cibella stands rigidly in the hall, trying to block out the sounds of merriment filtering through the door. She would spend the evening in the training yard, with only her lance for company, if she hadn't assigned herself guard duty. The prince had insisted she take the day off, and she had insisted she could not. He granted her the day to spend as she chose. So she chose this, punishing herself by standing outside the party and scanning the hall for threats.

As focused as she is, she jolts at the door opening behind her. _Everyone inside the room is an ally. Don't whirl on them—you’ll turn your back on the true enemy._

"Cibella? May I have a word?"

Hildegarde's oddly shy timbre does not prepare Cibella for what she sees. A dress as white and ornate as a wedding gown cascades like a waterfall down her legs—down _one_ of her legs. A trail of flowers draws Cibella's stare back up to a heart-and-flower hairpiece. Hildegarde shifts, keeping her arms behind her back.

"My apologies for startling you. I am glad to see that someone else, at least, is dedicated to maintaining order on this occasion." Hildegarde's voice sounds less resolute than usual. It makes Cibella's own words grate overly harsh.

"Somebody must take guard duty seriously. With even the Halidom's warriors distracted, an enemy could sneak in at any moment." To say nothing of a spy poisoning the many treats. Poison testers try the prince's food in private, despite his protests, but too many chocolates are changing hands for everyone to be so protected.

It’s not a threat Cibella can prevent, no matter how much she trains. Unlike Hildegarde, she possesses no ability to purify a wound or aid the sick. Thinking about such things makes her train more fiercely rather than learn yet another discipline. The practical solution, she always tells herself, is to stick close to Hildegarde. The companionship can be forgiven if it makes up for one of Cibella's weak spots.

Today, however, even Hildegarde doesn't seem to be on-duty. And Cibella can't focus, either, with lace and jewelry wrapped around Hildegarde's shoulders.

"How did you come to be dressed like that?" Cibella asks. Hildegarde flushes.

"I was dragged most forcibly to the shops. Naturally, I did not want you to suffer the same distraction. However, I enjoyed shopping with you more."

Cibella has thought of that day more than she cares to admit, even as she foresees it one day tasting like blood in her mouth. She softens at the memory of Hildegarde’s smile, and at her unusual vulnerability now. "I feel the same. That day was much happier than this one has been."

"As to that, while I do not wish to impose, I thought to supply you with something your post didn’t afford."

Hildegarde reveals a bag from behind her back. Stunned, Cibella pulls out a set of silky clothes as carefully as she can manage. Though she once cleaned and mended the children’s laundry with ease, her time as a warrior has made her palms too callused for something this delicate.

"You bought this for me?"

"It seemed negligent not to. Do you like it?"

Cibella swallows. She had been so determined not to like any part of today that the thought of it shatters her.

"If you do not, you are under no obligation to try it on," Hildegarde says.

Seeing how put out she seems, Cibella sputters, "It’s not that! I just didn’t expect to wear something like this today."

Understanding shines in Hildegarde's eyes. "Would it help to think of it as suiting up for a mission? Your current attire wasn’t designed for today, after all."

Cibella tries not to twist the fabric too hard as she ponders that.

"As I said, I do not wish to impose," Hildegarde says. "It is your decision. I only remembered how happy you seemed with your new clothes, that day."

It all comes back. The fabric under her fingertips, the near stranger in the mirror, Hildegarde's admiring look. Cibella had managed to block out that part of the memory, even if she couldn't forget Hildegarde's rare, bright laughter, or her lips at the edge of her teacup.

"I would hate for your purchase to go to waste." Cibella's smile fades as she clutches the fabric. "I must go get changed."

"I shall watch your post," Hildegarde says. Cibella hurries to her room.

The knowledge that Hildegarde is now the first line of defense—not that it was ever a true position—has Cibella hastily suiting up. _Like armor_ , she tells herself. Her first battle preparations made her fingers fumble as well.

Thankfully, Hildegarde chose something understated enough for Cibella to not feel too frivolous. The navy pantsuit is made of an unusually comfortable material that seems to drape around her limbs. Its flower decorations do not form the garden Hildegarde carries with her, but there is a white corsage pinned to the chest. Imagining how well they'll match makes her stall and smooth the fabric.

Finally, she returns. Knowing of Hildegarde's attire does not prepare her to see it again. She wills her heart to calm as she approaches, though it only beats faster when Hildegarde appraises her with a smile.

 _If even she approves, it can't be improper_.

"It suits you," Hildegarde says. "How do you feel?"

Despite the battle in her chest, she cannot pin it down to a bad feeling. "Exhilarated. As you said, I feel like I’ve finally suited up for the event, though I still feel unsuited for it."

"Moving around might help you get used to it." Now that Hildegarde's hands are free, they are clutched in front of her. She holds one out, causing the sash attached to her wrists to ripple in the air. "May I have this dance?"  
  
Cibella has to contain a squawk. "Right here?"

"I've had enough of the others gawking at me for one night. Though, if you wish to join them, I would support you."

In truth, she's wished to join them all day, to share songs and gifts and laughter with friends. She most wished to share them with Hildegarde, who she assumed would be the one other person to avoid them. This turn of events leaves her too dizzy to enter the fray.

"I'm afraid I am a clumsy dancer,” Cibella says. “The others have no need to see me flounder."

"You as well? Neither of us need cause the other shame, then."

Hildegarde's hand has been outstretched long enough to seem awkward—and lonely. Before she can retract it, Cibella takes it, aware of their matching calluses. There's no hiding her clamminess as she places her other hand on Hildegarde's shoulder, bare but for a layer of lace, and Hildegarde holds Cibella's waist with a steady touch.

"I am frightened," Cibella admits. "I could not bear it if memories I made with you become painful one day."

"I feel the same. It’s why I did not approach you sooner. However, before I joined the others, I was already in pain. And for the first time since our last outing, light filled my heart. I wished... I pray you can experience that as well."

This close, Hildegarde's earnest expression leaves Cibella lightheaded. They begin to step to the rhythm of the music through the cracked-open door. "Your consideration has already done so. You didn't have to go to all of this effort for me."

"I knew the thoughts you must have been having today. They agonized me, as well. It was only after my own head cleared that I thought to aid you."

Trust Hildegarde to think of serving others, even when she finally enjoys herself. Making her happy in return becomes the mission Cibella is suited up for, as if it wasn't always. She follows Hildegarde's steps as well as she can, as nimble on her feet as she is in training, if not particularly graceful. Caught up in watching her stance, she goes a spell without meeting Hildegarde's eyes; when she does, she finds them as warm and encompassing as an embrace.

It is then that Hildegarde treads on her toes and pauses to fuss, though with all of Cibella's punishing training it hardly registers.

"This is a day to express our feelings. Do you think our practice went all right?" Hildegarde asks once they’ve parted, breathless despite their slow maneuvers.

"Any training requires more diligence than one session. Perhaps we should join the others after all. And follow up on this, when next we get a chance." This last suggestion, she makes shyly, though to positive reception.

When they enter, the others wear matching grins. Their beckoning makes Cibella’s chest tighten. With Hildegarde's hand in the crook of her arm, she steps into the light.


End file.
